


What's the Opposite of Victim?

by SteRhubarb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:05:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteRhubarb/pseuds/SteRhubarb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius Black is not a victim. And certainly not a victim of Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's the Opposite of Victim?

The very first time, it's just after you’ve all secured your animagi, and you see him go through the change for the very first time.

  
You learn that imagination can only ever take you so far, and that the reality is considerably more sickening and humiliating and heartbreaking.

  
And the dog in the corner whines as the boy inside cries out.

  
And when the dawn breaks you flee, allowing the day to resume the routine it had found for itself over the past four years, and you are relieved.

  
You crawl under the bedsheets fully clothed, but you don’t sleep.

  
You can’t.

  
 

You visit the infirmary at midday when he is awake and the animal metabolism and medicinal potions in their combined work have made him less corpse-like.  


But he’s still a wreck and his eyes are tired and frightened.

  
He waits for one of you to speak first and James--  
  
  
_thank him later_ –-

  
takes lead.

   


And you’re startled out of a sorrowful haze by the sound of laughter.

  
It’s weak and not entirely real, but you look up and--  
  
  
Yes, he’s smiling.

  
You want to grab him by the shoulders and ask

_  
How?_

  
After what you’ve seen and felt you suddenly don’t know how he is this boy in this bed, and you can’t remember who you are stood in front of him.

  
Years have passed of mornings like this and you’re baffled and amazed by the sheer strength.

   


And that’s when you start noticing.

  
You watch him and you marvel at the strength it takes to keep it all contained beneath careful hands and soft-spoken words.  


And it’s embarrassing;

  
When he snaps and yells you flinch like he’s about to go feral and you didn’t want to, but he’s seen.

  
He get up and leaves and you regret it for as long as you can remember.

  
And when you fly off the handle at the slightest provocations, and you find yourself in detention with bloody knuckles under his Prefect gaze you are embarrassed.  
  
  
You want to apologise to him, but he won’t know why, and if he does he won’t accept it.

   


He keeps so much contained and it makes you jealous.

  
It angers you sometimes, and one time when you’re at your worst.   
  
  
You’re hurt and vulnerable, you've made a name for yourself by never being caught that way;

  
if you're the one doing the hurting, then you're never the victim - isn't that how it goes?

  
But he sees you.  
  
  
He looks at you in a way that has you lashing out with words, and you resent yourself for reacting that way when he’s been through worse and handled it better.

  
So you throw it at him just to see how he copes, but you’re still shocked when he reacts exactly how you thought he would.

  
“Please, don’t” he asks, and you laugh and tell him it was just a joke, that you didn’t mean it, forgetting that you’re in no state for laughing or cracking jokes.

  
But he lets you lie and accepts it graciously.   
  
  
And it looks like you almost go back to normal after that, but you see the changes because you’ve been watching, and you try to reconcile yourself with the fact that he knows you would never hurt him, but you know you’ve just made everything harder.  
  
  
  



End file.
